"Lor', it is money, Tom," exclaimed Larrikins, at once giving the stick a good bash against the side of the wall. "The thunderin' old cheat of a Maltese scoundrel is a regular take-in, askin' on us fur to help him and he a-rollin' in gold all the time, the blessed old miser!" This statement was true enough; for, as the malacca cane came against the stonework, the head of it flew off, and from the hollow cavity within that was then disclosed there rolled out, if you please, a string of gold pieces some twenty at least in number--the result, probably, of this respectable mendicant's very industrious beggary since he had taken to the trade, the old rascal carrying his horde about with him for safety's sake. He now burst into tears at his secret wealth being thus brought to light; judging, no doubt, from what he knew of the morals of his own countrymen, that Larrikins and I were going to appropriate it to our own use. But, Larrikins and I were English sailors--not any of your Maltese riffraff; and so, picking up the scattered gold, we gave it back to the old impostor, the suspicious scoundrel counting each piece as we dropped it into his hands to make sure that we did not purloin any. "Take that, yer old joker," said Larrikins, as we left the scene of the incident, tendering the old gentleman a parting kick. "That's some interest, old Bono Johnny, to stick inter yer ditty box along o' yer shiners!" We had no further adventure at Malta, beyond finding out that most of the shopkeepers and other chaps with whom we dealt during our short stay were as great cheats as our beggar friend of the Nix Mangiare stairs. Before leaving the port, however, to proceed up the Levant, we heard a piece of news that gave some of us much satisfaction. This was, that, instead of the _Mermaid_ having to act for some months as jackal to the eastern division of the fleet, as had been intended when we were commissioned, we were now ordered to pass up the Mediterranean and proceed on through to the Red Sea, the cruiser which we had been hurriedly despatched to relieve on account of her condenser being cracked, having had her damages made good in the dockyard, the _Merlin_ indeed lying out in French Creek all ready to return to her station within forty-eight hours of our arrival at Valetta. So, on the third morning, a lot of signalling went on between our ship and the flagstaff ashore at the naval station, the upshot being that we were ordered to sail early in the afternoon; when, steam being got up and the anchor weighed, we bade adieu to the island, leaving Saint Elmo Point on our port hand and shaping a course eastward.